


this is the way we love (like it's forever)

by notlena



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV Uchiha Sasuke, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-18 18:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21281477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notlena/pseuds/notlena
Summary: In the past ten years, Sasuke could safely say he must’ve thought about his late brother maybe four times. Or five, if he is being generous. The stillness of village life could barely evoke any memories of Itachi. His name or likeness aren’t anywhere. He is not spoken of. Well, nothing of the past is spoken of. Or thought of. The rule of war has no place among the living and the peaceful. Until the day the Nanadaime gets sick, and Sasuke’s world comes crashing down all over again.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 10
Kudos: 95





	this is the way we love (like it's forever)

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to my partner in crime and beta, the talented notdenisa. If anything in this fic strikes you as a great idea, it was probably hers.
> 
> That being said, all remaining mistakes are mine.

The floor of the living room creaks softly under the uneven weight of his body. Sasuke sighs audibly, though he knows he need not to. Even though his presence in the house is sporadic and hardly ever announced, Sakura is still a shinobi. An overwhelmed working mother raising their bratty child, sure. But still a shinobi. Not one bit hard of hearing or afraid to crack down on any intruders.

Sakura is in the kitchen, sat down at the dining table, apparently lost in thought. Her head perks up slightly in acknowledgement of his presence, though that is as far as her respect extends. It is late into the evening. The house looks spotless, Sasuke notices. Sakura’s neutral stance and expression do not betray a hint of tiredness, though he knows better. He feels slightly less inadequate than usual, strangely, in spite of the news that he is about to announce to Sakura. 

“I think that Naruto’s illness is what Itachi had, nearing his death.” Sasuke speaks, with intent.

Sakura stares at him, Itachi’s name undoubtedly ringing in her ears, as it does in Sasuke’s own. “How do you know?”, she whispers, clearly in disbelief. Neither of them had heard that name in years. It sounds strange, out of place in their new lives.

Sasuke is thankful to his past self for opening up to his chosen wife, once and for all. Yes, my brother was sick. Yes, I didn’t really murder him in cold blood, he sort of just fell face first onto the wall next to me, and he was gone. Yes, he was a criminal but he thought he was protecting me and the village. Yes, I will love him always.

That had been the end of that. For about ten years, that is. Until this very moment. “I do not _know_, though I can think of some ways to find out.” Sasuke recites, having thought his words through long before he stepped foot into their house. Her house, really. “I need your help.”

Sakura stands, and it reminds him she is not afraid of him. She’s not the stupid girl she once was, the weakling, the pretty girl with a hopeless crush. She is a woman, and God knows Sasuke has never really had to deal with the wrath of a grown woman. She looks him up and down detachedly. “You don’t _need_ my help. Or anyone’s, really.”

“I need your medical opinion.”

“My medical opinion is that I had not sensed an ounce of illness in _him_. I can’t compare it to what Naruto has. It is simply impossible.”

Sasuke understands at once. “I can describe my late brother’s symptoms in detail, if that will help.” _You have seen hundreds of patients. Thousands_, he doesn’t say. Sasuke wishes his godly powers had granted him the ability to read minds, though sadly, that was not the case. Or the ability to tell a lie from the truth, at least. Now, that’s a jutsu Tobirama Senju should have developed for warfare. Sakura’s guarded, unaffected front unsettles him.

“Likely useless. Even if they do share the same illness, it would not mean a thing. It wouldn’t help us find a cure for Naruto.” She states, matter-of-factly.

Sasuke, unable to voice the insanity in his head, wary of not scaring the one person who could (and _should_) help him away, pushes the hair covering his Rinnegan behind his ear neatly. Sakura’s face changes immediately. Sasuke is thankful for that. He and this woman, they don’t need words. She looks lost for a moment, then affronted. She loved Naruto, just like he did. Just like _he does_. She might be scandalised now, but she will do it. She _has_ to do it.

“Sasuke… you don’t mean…” She says, evenly, shaking her head slightly. _But I do._

“I don’t see another way.” He says, trying to mask his rising hysteria under a casual mask of nonchalance. Only he doesn’t quite manage. The thought of Itachi, at twenty-one years old, rising to his feet as an alive man, makes his stomach turn and his blood run cold in his veins. 

He is only distantly aware of his mouth opening to speak in a quiet, rushed tone, lest their daughter might hear: “Naruto is going to deteriorate and die and we will be powerless to stop it. If you examine Itachi in the final phase of his illness, collect his blood and his cells, find out what is wrong with him, you could synthesize the antidote. If you can’t, then nobody else can.” A lie, he realises as soon as he says it. But he is not going to let Orochimaru touch his brother’s corpse, not now, not ever. Not by himself with no one to keep him in check. That’s why Sakura here is crucial. Not only is she a master of medical ninjutsu, she is also. Not. Insane. That’s the crucial part. 

He sounds unhinged even to his own ears. It angers Sakura. “I am not letting you do this, Sasuke. I am not letting you ruin our daughter’s life with your nonsense.” There, she said it. Plain and simple. Sasuke sees through his uncovered Rinnegan that Sakura’s chakra is gathering in her fist. She is ready to make a point. “I can’t stop you, Sasuke, but I can warn you. Do not do this. You sound crazy.”

Sasuke feels suffocated by the whole situation, by the feeling of Sakura’s unbelievable chakra gathering so close to his vital organs, by the image of his late brother rising from the dead, coughing up blood. By the image of Naruto, a god, an untouchable power, a mass of optimism, positivity and bare invincibility…falling to the ground for the last time. The world without Naruto in it feels like what he imagines the Tsukuiyomi must feel like. A hell without escape, an infinite, meaningless torture. There is no point in this stupid village without Naruto. There is no point in Sasuke’s spared life, in his sham marriage, in Naruto’s young children growing up under the protection of their father’s rule. If Naruto dies now, there is no point in anything. There never would have been.

He takes a step closer to Sakura, till her coiled fist almost touches his thigh. She immediately releases control over her chakra. “Naruto cannot and will not die, Sakura. Not while I have this eye.”

“I said no. The dead should stay dead, Uchiha.” She says, and for a moment, Sasuke feels delirious. For a hysterical moment, his pink-haired, scantily dressed _wife_ reminds him painfully of Itachi in his Akatsuki gown, putting him in his place, telling him what’s what.

Sasuke raises his voice, like his much younger self would have, a lifetime ago: “Fine, I shall tear these eyes out then!” He grabs for his right eye, starts digging three of his fingers alongside it. “Maybe then we will find what we need! These are his eyes, after all. Any sickness that they bear, I shall find.” 

Maybe everyone is right, after all. Maybe the Uchiha _are_ cursed with madness. He’s met Madara. His own father and mother allowed themselves to be killed by their own son, Obito Uchiha was a downright madman, and Itachi really did murder everyone in one go. No sane man could do something like that.

“Stop it!” Sakura shrieks, tries to grab for his wrist. He dodges easily, his hand still raised to his eye, prodding. She lunges for him, and they dance for a while like that in their pristine, annoyingly civilian open space living room. Sakura is determined to give him a run for his money. Silently, as only practised shinobi like them can, they spar, making use of the furniture to dodge, surprise, attack. They carry on stubbornly, keeping their chakra flow steady, in check. Punches and kicks are dodged, blocked. Sarada is fast asleep in her bed upstairs, none the wiser.

Finally, Sasuke knocks the wind out of Sakura against the wall, pinning her with his only forearm. He thinks for a second of Naruto, whether he does things like this with his own wife, as a foreplay of sorts. Whether this is the moment when Naruto would lean in and kiss his woman gently, bring her to bed, fuck her.

In the present moment, Sasuke and Sakura stare with hatred at each other, both of them thinking in turn: _Make a sound to wake up the child and I will kill you_. Unlike Sakura, who has long healed her wounds after being rejected and left behind by Naruto, whom she had come to respect, love and desire throughout their youth, Sasuke had never gotten there. In the privacy of his own soul, should he ever desire to contemplate the issue, he can admit he had never gotten over Naruto’s betrayal. Naruto is his _soulmate_. While Sakura screamed and wailed, all those years ago, Sasuke had just…left. Easy. 

Now she is a far cry from the young woman he agreed to have a child with. She is a mother, and she will do anything to protect her child. No longer does Naruto carry any weight or relevance in her life. Sarada has it all.

Sasuke wishes it was his case too. He wishes he were a good father. He wishes he had stayed in the village and had healed, too. But not as much as he wishes that he were Naruto’s husband, as he is his right-hand man. Not as much as he wishes he were Naruto’s confidant, as he is his soulmate.

He would burn this new world to the ground to keep Naruto alive.

Sakura shrugs him off and they resume their civilised conversation, as if nothing had happened. “I doubt any samples from your optic nerve would give me any clues about the disease of the former possessor.”, she says. “Besides a weak sequence of Itachi Uchiha’s DNA and a pale projection of his chakra, I doubt there is anything left.”

“I want to try it.”

Sakura sighs. Sasuke hopes she had resigned herself. “Not here. I can book you in and try it but you must be aware it is a very long and painful intervention?”

“If you perform it yourself and do not speak a word of it to anyone else, I do not see the problem.”

“The problem is that there is nothing there. Sasuke, you are not making sense.”

“Then I must bring my late anija back.”

“No.”

“It’s the only way you can study this disease.” _We can_, he doesn’t say. _Me, you, and Orochimaru if we are completely clueless._

“I doubt it is the same disease. I doubt a Senju and an Uchiha descendant would have any chance in hell of suffering from the same genetic disease.”

“Unless it is a contractible disease, in which case they could.”

“You can’t possibly believe that killing yourself performing Rinne rebirth on your _dead teenaged brother_ will cure Naruto of his disease.”

“Itachi was twenty-one years old. Hardly a teenager. Especially after living as a terrorist for most of his life.” 

“Have you gone mad?”

Sasuke all but yells, “I cannot let him die. And I know you must feel the same. You _must_”, he says, though he does not believe it. Of course she doesn’t feel the same. Not after this many years.

“I don’t want him to die any more than you do, Sasuke.” She says, kindly. She gestures for them to sit down on the sofa. Sasuke settles with unease. Sakura’s tone changes to ice in an instant when she continues: “But the past is the past. It upsets you. It upsets all of us. He is dead and buried, and he wants to rest. Let him rest, Sasuke. We will find a cure for Naruto. The past doesn’t have any answers left for us.”

She shifts closer to him and places her glowing green hand over his right eye. Sasuke realises then that his eye had been bleeding from when he all but yanked it out of its socket earlier.

“Rather, aren’t _you_ worried you will get Itachi’s illness?” Sakura asks. She is uncomfortable saying his name, Sasuke realises. 

“I am not. I imagine I would have gotten it by now.”

“Then surely you see how there’s no point wasting time and risking your health just for me to have a play with Itachi’s optic nerve.”

“Hn.” Sasuke shrugs her palm off immediately after she is done. He feels the connective tissue padding his eyeball elastic and strong once again. Patched up by the wife. What a pitiful life he has come to live.

And Naruto is sick.

“Will you let this go?”

“No. I will save Naruto. Just as he has saved me.”

Sakura swallows. “Then Edo Tensei your brother.”

“He’d have a host body. Not his real flesh and blood, nor his sickness.” _You truly don’t know anything about this._

“You’d bring him back, just for him to die again?”

“No, you’d cure them. The both of them. That’s the whole point.”

“And you?”

“I’d die, of course.”

“So that Itachi can live?”

“So that Naruto can live. So that they can both live.” He rises, walks outside. Sakura follows after a beat, and they both set to watching the full moon, chins up to the sky.

“What if he comes back to life a healthy man?” she whispers. “Sasuke, I am worried. This is not you.” She means, _this is not the man I married_. Sasuke can hear it clearly.

“Then he lives.”

“And Naruto dies.”

“At least I would have done everything in my power to save him.” Sasuke says. Convenient, he thinks. Then they’d both be together. Then they can watch Sarada and Boruto from the afterlife. They will grow up and get married, and then true peace can reign over the village. Because while he lives, the shadow of their tragic past will also live. The burden of his massacred clan, of the pains of the war, will always hover over them. Sakura will always live in fear of her insane husband coming home to tear the walls down on a whim. Now that he has opened the pandora’s box of anxiety, fear and hatred, there’s no going back. The complacent, docile Sasuke Uchiha had been swallowed whole. 

Sakura has always been a lucky one. She had no part to play in the horrible politics that ruined his and Naruto’s lives. She had always been on the outside, fighting her way in. In times of peace, she flourished. She healed. She grew up.

In times of peace, Sasuke buried his sadness and grief deep for the sake of giving Naruto the perfect world that he wanted. He became the compliant Sasuke Uchiha, full of servitude. The absent Sasuke Uchiha. The harmless Sasuke Uchiha. Now that the precarious balance of his soul had been upset, everything was bound to come out. And Sakura could see it plainly. Sasuke had revealed himself to her, hoping against hope that she will do the sensible thing and let him kill himself.

“Where have we found ourselves this time, Sasuke Uchiha…”, she says to the moon.

Sasuke turns on his heels and vanishes without another sound.

Sasuke contemplates retreating and going through the whole ordeal by himself. He considers edo tensei in first instance, though he fears that once up and ready to speak and fight, Itachi would talk him out of anything he wants to do. Even if he could control Itachi, he knows he wouldn’t. He cannot disrespect him by treating him like a puppet. He would let Itachi keep his personality and dignity, and Sasuke would crumble in front of the much younger man, would cry at his feet. Would release the jutsu, naturally, if anija asks him to. Would try to do Itachi proud and find an honest way to save his soulmate.

So he does not.

Months go by and Sasuke’s hysteria settles. Naruto is not well, though Sasuke begins to see fewer and fewer resemblances between Itachi’s bloody coughs and Naruto’s sickness. He feels foolish now for his outburst, for his bout of madness. Sakura watches him closely, follows him sometimes. She does little to pass unnoticed.

Sasuke tries his best to seal away his demons, to forget all about Itachi and the war. About Naruto and how he saved his life. It doesn’t really work.

He’s watching Sarada on the training field when she performs her first summon. He is sure it would be a snake, or a slug. Even a toad. Instead, black crows surround her out of thin air, and she watches them in awe, at once looking like a child at the playground. Sasuke’s heart sinks. 

For a long time, he dances with the thought of a living, in the flesh Itachi playing outside with Sarada, giving her piggyback rides. His elder brother picking her up from school. Cooking her breakfast. Spoiling her rotten. Every time Sarada would ask Itachi to play, he would say yes. He’d never don the ANBU uniform again. Sarada would adore her Itachi the same way Sasuke had adored him and they would be inseparable. Then the beautiful image twists into something awful. He imagines Sarada’s Mangekyou scorching her eyes as she learns her father had died resurrecting some man who killed her ancestors one by one in a bloody massacre. Sasuke sees with shocking clarity Sakura’s youthful face and carefree spirit dulled under the burden of parenting not only a traumatised pubescent girl, but a damaged young man as well. Both of whom bear a bloodline limit Sakura cannot understand nor gauge.

Sasuke takes on more assignments keeping him out of the village. He protects Konoha and by extension his family. He helps Naruto. He thus honours Itachi’s memory.

Life carries on for everybody else, though Sasuke finds no rest.

When he can bear it no longer, he finds Orochimaru. The immortal turns from his carefully set up samples, looking awful in the harsh neon light of his sterile laboratory.

“Well, what a turn of events.” Orochimaru all but tuts at Sasuke. “What can I do for you, supporting Kage-sama?”

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Happy Ending by MIKA. You're welcome for the suffering.


End file.
